


A Meeting in Bohemia

by mific



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Community: picfor1000, Fanfiction, Gothic, M/M, Mind Control, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 14:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9824084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mific/pseuds/mific
Summary: Professor Meredith McKay was certain John Sheppard had the answers he sought.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for pic-for-1000, and for Romancing McShep. Well, it's a Gothic romance after all, if a tad dark.
> 
> Here's the [photo that inspired the story](https://www.flickr.com/photos/46578978@N03/31729220913/)
> 
> (Edited to tone down the drunk talk a bit because it was annoying me.)

***

The inn was overheated and the food execrable. Meredith abandoned his stew half eaten and instead helped Dex finish the bottle of cheap Rhenish that was the best this meager establishment offered. Dex had no conversation and was happy to quaff anything, but towering as he did above most men he made a fine bodyguard in these isolated Bohemian forests. Miss Emmagan, the amanuensis to whom Meredith dictated his scientific inspirations, had retired to take what rest she could in one of the lumpy beds in the loft above. Meredith was inclined to postpone that dubious pleasure until he was further into his cups.

It was galling that they must travel so far from Europe's centers of learning and culture. Meredith had sailed to Europe convinced that the great libraries of Paris and London held vital clues to the existence of the undead beings men called vampires. He was the foremost expert in the civilized world in this branch of the supernatural, but his brilliant mind and years of study had not won him the academic renown he felt he deserved. He had published, and been made a laughing stock, accused of falsifying data and concocting fantasies.

Meredith ground his teeth. He would show them all, those puffed up so-called experts at the Royal Society. Vampires existed, he knew it, and when the great libraries of Europe had proved disappointingly barren, correspondence from the American adventurer Sheppard had led him here, to this ramshackle hostelry at the foot of a snow-clad hill. Atop the peak perched the castle whose library Sheppard assured him contained all the evidence he would ever need. He had wanted to press on and continue up the track to the castle in the fading light, but their guide - a local scholar with some impossible name like Zenkler - had blanched and muttered about monsters in the woods. Arrant nonsense, and doubtless a ploy to force Meredith to fund a night's substandard accommodation. The innkeeper was probably Zenkler's second cousin.

Professor Meredith R. McKay PhD PhD finished off his wine and wagged a finger at his companion. "Mark my words, Dex. Through extraordinary ingenuity, I have tracked these vampires to their lair."

"Hope not," Dex said, smirking. "Wanna keep all my blood inside me."

Meredith waved a hand. "Oh not _literally_ , man, good heavens. No, I've tracked the _evidence_. I am sure th'castle's library holds the necessary answers, if Sheppard's to be b'lieved, an' I have a good feeling about 'im, yes I do. 'Twill make me world-famous and show those, those _half_ -wits an' _idiots,_  how very wrong they are." He banged his now-empty tankard on the table for emphasis. " _Morons._ "

"Uh huh," Dex said, unimpressed, downing the last of his wine. "You gonna make it up the stairs, or d'you need a hand?"

"I sh'll be perfeshly fine," Meredith said, rising with difficulty. His head swum abominably - the foul stew had undoubtedly poisoned him. "Perhaps a modick. Modcome. Of assishtance. Tha' staircase's parlous. Um, perilous." Behind him, Dex snorted, but helped him find his bed, which was next to a window thus enabling him to avoid suffocation from Dex's nocturnal farting. Meredith pushed the window ajar with difficulty - it was as though it had not been opened for years - wrinkling his nose at the smell emanating from great ropes of garlic draped over the casement. Why they could not dry their vegetables in a storeroom like most peasants, he had no idea.

***

He was not later able to relate the events of the night with clarity, although both Miss Emmagan and the Zenkler person pressed him for details. It was a dream, surely, brought on by too much Rhenish, or a fever from that damned stew.

He recalled being folded in strong arms. Recalled soaring through the night with dark wings flapping batlike around them as they flitted above the forest.

"You're okay, I've got you," the man holding him whispered in the accents of the American South, which was ludicrous, and clear evidence Meredith was dreaming. "I won't let you fall." Meredith had not been frightened in the least, although usually he had no head for heights. In dreams one could do anything.

The rest was unclear. There was a library, warmed by a fireplace and full of rare volumes. Meredith recalled invigorating discourse with a tall, dark man who plied him with fine port and better conversation. Meredith assumed he had woven the dream from his plan to meet Sheppard the next day. Nothing else made sense.

Sheppard, whose name was John, had become amorous, and Meredith blushed to recall the details. It was not his first dream of that nature, but a gentleman could not confess such urges.  

There had been long, passionate kisses after which he was laid down on a bearskin by the fire and fucked most thoroughly until he was faint with ecstasy. John had licked port wine from his neck and grinned up at Meredith with sharp, red-stained teeth. "Been waiting for you, Mer. Knew you'd find me."

The rest was confused. Had he sobbed with need, John's head busy between his thighs? Had he pulled John up and licked his own taste from John's mouth, bitter metallic iron? Had he drunk from John's wrist in turn?

In the morning he was unable to rise. A doctor was called, but Meredith dismissed the quack, wanting only to sleep. Miss Emmagan tended him, shooting worried glances at Dex who lurked in the shadows.

"I will be well tomorrow, then we will travel to the castle to meet Sheppard, the owner," he said to Zenkler, closing his eyes, exhausted by their questions. "Odd to find a North American here, of all places."

"He inherited the estate," Zenkler said shortly. "His family are wealthy."

Meredith waved a hand; it was hard to move. "Yes, yes. I feel sure he holds the secret to my quest."

"Even if it kills you?" Zenkler asked softly.

Meredith ignored him. How he longed for the night.

***


End file.
